Wars Of The Future And Beyond
by Tumarbar Arranoilis
Summary: This story revolves around the Generals in the game of C&C Generals: Zero Hour. Various Events and many more...
1. The Serpant Awakes

Wars of the Future and Beyond  
  
Started: January, January 29, 2004  
  
Disclaimer: The characters on the story belong to Electronic Arts, no intentional infringements of copyright are intended through their use.  
  
Chapter 1: The Serpent Awakes  
  
Bagdad,Iraq 1126 Hours DST  
  
"Juziz, this is Jarmen, do you read me? Over." ]  
Juziz picked up the receiver of his radio and replied in a hoarse voice,  
  
"Only too well, Jarmen, I cannot see you, what is your location, and do you spy the convoy yet? Over."  
  
Jarmen Kell took no longer than ten seconds to comply, "Juziz, according to my radar vans, The convoy is no longer than three hundred meters away, my Technicals and Scorpions are now armed, ready for your orders...Seriously in the name of Allah, you cannot see me? Over."  
  
Juziz grimaced and clicked the button of the receiver, "Ok, I give, I have to say that you are as sneaky as Prince Kassad. Anyway, when the infidels reach the thirty-metre mark, you know what to do.  
  
"Alright, if only I had some Marauders and SCUD launchers with me...Over and out." Jarmen grumbled through the radio and replaced the receiver.  
  
Juziz took a bottle of gin and sipped it in silence...He wondered, "Where is Dr. Thrax?"  
  
Meanwhile, in a secret GLA base north of Tikirit...  
  
Dr. Thrax looked up at the sky as yet another cargo plane fall from the sky engulfed in smoke. He muttered under his rancid breath, "That makes seventeen...The Technicals better be there to get the goodies..." Dr.Thrax regretted that he would give bottles of gin to the crews of the Quad Canons stationed around him if they manage to shoot down thirty cargo planes.  
  
He had half his face covered with a dusty red cloth to conceal his face, deformed by years of research with toxins. Blisters of various sizes recently invaded his hands because a fortnight earlier, he had accidentally spilled some of his newly created Anthrax Delta; traces of the fluorescent yellow toxin were still seen on his bony knuckles.  
  
To others, it could mean death in a matter of seconds unless treated by his antidotes, which negate his poisons' effects, especially death. But to him, his loyal Toxin Rebels, and the operators of the Toxin Network, it was nothing for they themselves use the toxins against their enemies.  
  
Dr Thrax made himself comfortable with a looted beach chair and watched Omar reporting news on TV, also looted. In order to reach his channel, they must have a special adapter before they could tune in. Everyone knew that Juziz has self-destruct mechanism which could explode within fifty seconds placed in them so that Omar could transmit his news with ease for no American knew the disarming code which negates the timed detonation.  
  
"Hmm...Omar sure does look smart in that suit, but I'd still prefer him to don his war clothes complete with that bulletproof vest...What do you think?"  
"Either way is fine, my dear Krishnan..." replied a familiar voice from nowhere, almost causing Dr.Thrax to choke on his gin. He looked up and made out the shadowy figure of a man, definitely taller then his five-feet- half-tall height. The man held a rifle similar to Jarmen Kell's weapon of choice, but he was away in Baghdad, discreetly defending the line with sneaky men like him.  
  
But only a few people knew his real name, Dr. Krishnan Rajah only his close peers would know it...Juziz was also in Baghdad aiding Jarmen and at this time, they would not even have the time to watch Omar news casting. Jarkar was somewhere in Europe assaulting American forces, Omar had resigned his career as a strategist and helped the GLA report news and inspiring messages to keep their morale up. Narfil has gone to see the Higher Order regarding recent news of American armor, along with Chinese infantry grouping themselves for attacks in Iraq, where he is...  
  
Now Dr. Thrax has two things to worry and think about, the more important one, whether the news of the fortified Allied armies were true, and the less important one, who this man was. "It seems that you are pondering who I am... Maybe this will help...I come and go like the shadows of nightfall, hardly seen by many, and fly like the wind, swift and silent, when I wish to..." That iced it, "Prince Kassad, No doubt that you went through my scouts unseen nor unheard, for none had told me of your arrival."  
  
"I thank you for your commendation, but I bring urgent news, and it is unnecessary to cause panic among your men just yet. We must leave this base by nightfall, for the Allied forces, take what you need, my men and I will hide all traces of retreat and the base itself."  
  
"That means that the news are true."  
  
"Indeed, Oh, I forgot, Narfil has returned."  
  
"So named equal of the infidel Alexander, US Super Weapon General eh?"  
  
"To be precise, our own Super Weapon General..."  
  
"Till now, I want her head as my trophy, she destroyed thirteen of my labs and was also in charge of taking my oil fields as their own with the help of an unnamed Zionist...Grrr..."  
  
"Judging by your tone, I predict that you are not too happy with them..."  
  
"Ok, lets make haste or we'll be the first among the GLA to be killed. Anyway, thank you my brethren, for providing me with the news to ensure our survival."  
  
"See you round later, my friend."  
  
Dr. Thrax turned off the goggle box and set off to give orders once again to prepare the men to move their operations elsewhere while the workers under Kassad's command, started to carry out their new orders to deconstruct the base...  
  
Maybe, after all, he would not need to buy five more crates of gin at the black market for the Quad Canons' crews. And so he made it a point to buy just one new bottle for himself... 


	2. What Lurks Within

Wars Of The Future & Beyond  
  
Started March 16, 2004  
  
Disclaimer: Some of the original characters on the story belong to Electronic Arts no intentional infringements of copyright are intended through their use. Some of the events and characters in the game are edited for dramatic purposes. Any resemblance to any character in the story, living or dead is purely coincidental.  
  
Chapter 2: What Lurks Within  
  
Southern Baghdad, Iraq, 1853 Hours DST  
  
Among the war-ravaged ruins of the one bustling with life Southern part of Baghdad where smoldering rubble lay, shadows of unknown figures slithered in silence. Someone crept out of a burnt-out ruin of a shopping mall and slipped behind the blackened remains of a SUV.  
  
A pair of binoculars peered out of the steel debris and focused the surroundings of its owner. He stepped out, he donned a khaki uniform with patches of mahogany and grey to blend into the desolate desert surroundings. A little badge was sewn onto his sleeve, it was none other than the rank of a major. Flash-Bang grenades and sniper magazines were clipped onto his bulletproof vest. A sleek and custom-built sniper rifle was slung around his torso. He, was Jonathan Fairfield Junior, Commander of "B" Squad in the 251st "Crash" Recon Company.  
  
He sneaked back to his squad and started to give out instructions to his comrades, "Joe, take Charlie and Glen with you, secure that building at 8'o clock and set up your position up there." Jonathan pointed towards a surprisingly intact 4-storey building and in a matter of seconds, the three had garrisoned the building in no time.  
  
"Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew, occupy that structure over there at 3'oclock."The five were gone in a wink of an eye and rifles were seen pointing out of the deserted supermarket.  
  
"The rest of you, follow me." Fairfield reached for a silenced Desert Eagle in his holster which was laden with was laden with many tools essential for survival. With a Desert Eagle in hand. Fairfield and five others, including three Path finders, a Ranger and a Field Medic crossed the streets of the once busy avenues which were now enshrouded in the urban silence.  
  
They scaled the stairs of a derelict high-rise apartment and started to mount their weapons of the worn and yellowed parapet of the rooftop. The Sun's rays reflected on Fairfield's sniper rifle when he placed it on the mount and screwed them intact. When it was done, Fairfield followed suit of the Pathfinders by replacing the usual brown camouflage netting with a grayish yellow one to reduce the chances of being discovered by the enemy and so did the Rangers and the Medic.  
  
Seeing that all was ready in his Team Charlie he took out a radio and clicked it to call Team Alpha (Joe, Charlie and Glen), "Alpha Team, do you read?" There was a response, "Alpha Team has successfully deployed, ready for orders." Fairfield continued, "Beta, (Derrick, Marcus, Gerald, Andrew) do you read?" "Affirmative, ready for your command, Sir."  
  
Fairfield, satisfied, clicked the radio once again, "Alright, then the target approaches, wait for my order, do not do anything unnecessary, you got me?" "Yes, Sir." Both Derrick and Joe replied in unison.  
  
Fairfield returned the radio to the utility belt and peered through his scope of his rifle and adjusted it. He looked around. The ranger had his machine-gun pointed towards the entrance where their target, a GLA convoy under the command of Prince Kassad, was supposed to pass through and which they were supposed to ambush. "Right, thirteen infantry to assault a huge convoy with lots of vehicles...General Granger must have gone nuts." Fairfield thought to himself. He resumed his observation of his environment. The Field Medic actually doubles as a Pathfinder for he is in a Recon Company and lastly, the men whom Fairfield respected the most, Pathfinders. They sneak around places for you, look out for mines or other hidden units, and silence unwary prey, without a complaint at all. Fairfield thought that the Rangers in the whole company, especially the one alongside him, should be a Pathfinder, but still, they needed heavy firearms too.  
  
Fairfield reached for his binoculars again and peered through it. Being a veteran of many missions had perfected the sharpness of his eyes. He saw uneven patches of land moving from the desert towards the city. It took no guessing to know what was happening, even the others were aware of it. They had eventually come...  
  
Fairfield gave the signal for his squad to put on their newly-acquired tool of war--Infra-red goggles. These handy accessories were attachments to their Kevlar helmets which were netted and placed in the netting were usually leaves of various color depending on the environmental conditions. Fairfield also radioed the other teams to follow suit. He was right, the sights revealed some men in prone position trying to crawl to the city. "Fools." Fairfield thought. Fairfield once again reminded his men to hold their fire till the order was given.  
  
Every step the enemy stealth infantry took, the tighter the grip of their weapons the squad became. In a matter of minutes, the unsuspecting enemy infantry reached the "Yellow" zone. The "Red Zone' was when Fairfield gave the order, but when the first wave of infantry was 100 meters away. Something unexpected which came too soon gave Fairfield quite a surprise. There were also Technicals at the area. But soon, the surprised look was replaced with a smile.  
  
"Easy as pie." Fairfield uttered. The occupants of the Technicals are open to fire, very east to be shot at, finding the petrol tank of the vehicle was not a problem at all.  
  
60 meters...  
  
The Ranger started to grab his machine-gun as if it were a gold bar. The field Medic clutched to the Cross necklace and started praying.  
  
40 meters...  
  
Fairfield too, started praying for he was also a devout Christian. The Pathfinders started to adjust their sights.  
  
20 meters...  
  
Everyone braced themselves for a hardcore firefight, eager to inject bullets into the little bodies of the Rebels.  
  
At the last few meters, Fairfield readied his shots and as a former air rifle champion in his teens, Fairfield had no problem keeping the rifle and stay calm. Now, more Camouflaged Rebels had appeared from the horizon, more than you can shake a stick at.  
  
Cool beads of sweat started to trickle down his face. Adenine pumping in his overheated veins.  
  
2 meters...  
  
His eyes focused on the Rebel infantry, and he could fire 6 shots per time before cocking was needed in a magazine of 12 Silvertip bullets. He started to estimate the distance between the Rebels and the Technicals.  
  
1 meter...  
  
Fairfield breathed in deep, air gushed into his lungs like a blade in the dark.  
  
0!  
  
Fairfield ripped out the radio and yelled, "Open Fire!" Blazes of gunfire blew from B Squad's hideouts. The first among the cloaked men met death in an instant. He dropped his cloak and knelt down on the asphalt. His black uniform lined with Green ammo belts and masked face was revealed. The bloodied green beret had proved him as the GLA's Rebel and he had traces of Pink on his sleeves. He was none other than a Stealth Rebel under the command of Prince Kassad, a terrorist who is infamous for his sneaky traps and snares.  
  
One by one, the first wave of Prince Kassad's minions fell dead, their minds swirling into eternal darkness as their uniforms were stained in bright crimson. The dead Rebels were never to stir again, they just lay there, slain as blood slowly and steadily trickle down the dusty roads which were blown up by recent American air-raids.  
  
Fairfield had already taken away six men's lives, meaning that his bullets were well-spent. The Pathfinders were silently taking out more Rebels while the three Rangers in the squad went trigger-happy with their silenced machine-guns. The Rebels cried out in anguish as they fell to the ground, blood was everywhere, and Fairfield knew that he and his men had the upper hand.  
  
But the tables have turned. A RPG trooper riding in a Technical which came in the middle of the fight spotted Team Beta in the garrisoned supermarket. He shrieked and pointed there and cried in an Arabic language. But everyone knew that he was disclosing the location of Team Beta. One of Team Alpha's men, sensing the potential danger, killed him in an instant with his silenced machine-gun. The RPG Trooper never spoke a word again.  
  
But it was too late, it had attracted the attention of some of the Rebels and RPG Troopers. They regained their wits and seized the chance to open fire at the supermarket. Fairfield cried out in grief as an Armor- Piercing RPG Rocket crashed through the cracked glass and exploded on impact when it found its target somewhere inside, killing Derrick and Gerald in an instant. Marcus was silenced as a bullet slammed into his lungs, causing him to be knocked back in pain, he eventually died of inability to breathe as his left lung was collapsed due to the bullet which somehow found its way through the tough bulletproof vest. Andrew went out of the building with both hands raised high up in the air, his whole head was bloodied due to the rocket attack but the GLA, being merciless to the Americans, who had claimed many of their brothers' lives, a Rebel without affection and grudgingly shot him in the gut. Andrew's body jerked violently as three bullets hit his body, he crumpled to the ground and breathed his last.  
  
Fairfield, angered by his comrades' deaths, fired his sniper rifle with vengeance to the Rebel who shot both Marcus and Andrew, and also had a head shot of the RPG Trooper who had killed Derrick and Gerald. Fairfield was grieved to see the smart American Uniform being drenched in blood. But was proud that the soldiers of Team Beta had died for the country.  
  
Now that B Squad had lost team Beta, the man count had been reduced from thirteen to 8. It was now a fight to the death. But the worst has yet to come. The rest of the convoy, a huge number of Scorpion, Marauder Tanks and fifteen SCUD Launchers have arrived. They immediately opened fire at the stronghold Team Alpha was in and Glen was killed in the opening salvo. There is now no hope of destroying the convoy for there was too little men to take out about a total of 1,550 cutthroats. The odds were too great, even for the best of the elites in the American Army, but Fairfield and his comrades continued to slaughter more of the Rebels.  
  
Suddenly, one of the Pathfinders next to Fairfield fell dead. His body lying spread-eagled on the cement floor, mouth agape and a clean shot on a chest, exactly where his heart was. In a few seconds, the Ranger fell dead too, he slumped towards his machine-gun and leant on it like a pillow.  
  
Fairfield strained his eyes to look for the sniper when the Field Medic started to attempt in desperation to extend the life of another Pathfinder whose neck had been gazed by a bullet. And this, was the first time he met his match on the battlefield; a slightly bearded man with a white turban and white satin robes with a brown cloak and a maroon scarf around his neck, carrying an outdated Soviet Sniper Rifle Model dating back to the 80's.  
  
Fairfield gasped, it was none other than the legendary Jarmen Kell, "So, these men were led by him...But why did he take his time to kill us?" Fairfield thought. He regained his senses and called on his radio, "Team Alpha! We are zeroed, you are to bail out! Team Alpha! Do you read!?"  
  
It was too late, a Scorpion Tank launched a Scorpion Rocket into Team Alpha's Position, killing Joe and Charlie in its wake.  
  
Now Fairfield , a Field Medic and Two Pathfinders were all that was left of the squad. There was no other alternative. "Bail out!" yelled Fairfield to the already demoralized remnants of B Squad. They hurriedly dashed down the stairs onto the GLA occupied streets of Southern Baghdad.  
  
Being now stranded in enemy territory, there was no use to hide and snipe anyone for the GLA had already brought in seven Radar Vans. To conserve stamina in order to run lightly and quickly, Fairfield had no other choice but to half-heartedly discard his Sniper Rifle, his most valued possession which had helped him in many missions. Fairfield dashed out his Desert Eagle and replaced his silencer with a flash-hider.  
  
Now there is one objective in the remaining B Squad soldiers' minds, which is to get out of enemy-invaded territory alive, and in one piece...\  
  
From the top of another high-rise, Jarmen sneered at the American's pathetic attempt to escape alive. He took another aim and bang, the Field Medic was dead in a second.  
  
Fairfield was desperately trying to revive the medic but to no avail. He left the corpse behind after salvaging his medic kit and 9mm pistol and ammo. He rejoined the remaining Pathfinders to run to freedom...  
  
Jarmen took another shot and this time, one of the Pathfinders crumpled to the ground immediately. Fairfield was in tears. He shook the Pathfinder vigorously but nothing could be done to bring him back to life again. He said a little prayer and went on. Jarmen peered through his scope once and again and aimed for the Pathfinder's left leg...Another successful shot, and the Pathfinder started limping on after staggering to the rough gravel. Jarmen launched another bullet into Fairfield's leg too, but both the Pathfinder and Fairfield limped across the streets while the Radar Vans were desperately trying to spot them-Only Jarmen could see them very well.  
Seeing the Fairfield and the Pathfinder helping each other to inch towards freedom, Jarmen was astonished at their willing spirit to stay alive and he thought to himself, "Hmm...these two have a strong will...Maybe for once I would let them live...We will, meet them on the battlefield again..."  
  
Jarmen held up his radio and clicked it, "Brothers, leave them alone, they are defenseless and we do not obliterate helpless people, do we? Let's leave."  
  
Fairfield was surprised that the convoy had started to head west. Maddened by rage, he fired his Desert Eagle at a departing Marauder Tank. By the end of the battle, only a badly injured Pathfinder and Fairfield were all that was left in the second-best squad of the Recon Company. The desolate streets were now littered with many corpses belonging to the GLA and eleven belonging to the patriotic American soldiers...  
  
Too tired to do anything else, the Pathfinder, Fredrick, took out his canteen and had a few gulps of water. Fairfield injected some morphine into Fredrick's thigh to relieve the pain which was surging through his leg due to Jarmen's bullet and partially due to an exploded tank shell of another Scorpion Rocket. Fairfield trudged to an unmanned Technical and sat at the cargo area where a dead machine gunner lay by the soldered SMG40 Machine- gun.  
  
He looked towards the 2nd lieutenant and said in a soft tone and raspy voice due to the frequent shouting, "Lieutenant?"  
  
The lieutenant looked up, "Yes, Sir?"  
  
Fairfield started, "You always know me as a Major, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Do you feel saddened by the deaths of our comrades, Lieutenant?"  
  
Tears start to well up in the Lieutenant's eyes, "Yes, I do, Sir."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because...Because Glen and Andrew were my friends since grammar school..." The lieutenant's speech was broken up by uncontrollable sobs.  
  
Fairfield went over and comforted the Lieutenant after sitting down beside him on the stairway leading to a door at a private estate. "Go ahead, cry as much as you want, men do cry sometimes..." He passed a white handkerchief to Fredrick. "Once, my family died in a tragic road accident on the way to a family trip to Daytona Beach...None of them survived, I broke my left arm...From then, I lived with my uncle till today..."  
  
Fredrick looked up towards Fairfield. "You know, losing someone you treasure most is hard, especially when more than one of them die at the same time...It's hard, I know, but when you go on, you will have to live your life with it. You see, when we pass away, we will be in heaven along with our loved ones for eternity, and that is worth the wait..."  
  
The dark look in Fredrick's was gone in a flash, a smile soon broke out of his dust-covered lips.  
  
"Oh, and you have always known me a Major, right?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"When we return to Delta HQ, do not go about telling everyone that I am now a colonel."  
  
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"  
  
"Go, ahead."  
  
"Thank you, sir... Is this a joke or is it really true? Sir?"  
  
Fairfield went silent, he took off his former major military uniform and there it was, a colonel's uniform. Fredrick had a great shock.  
  
Actually, I was a lieutenant colonel, demoted for time being and back again as a colonel recently... You see, sooner or later, I will be a brigadier general because...I have been elected by the other American Generals to be... An American Stealth General to match the GLA's Prince Kassad."  
  
The Pathfinder was still as shell-shocked as ever.  
  
"Oh, actually, General Granger promised that those who come back alive will be promoted by a rank... So, congratulations...1st Lieutenant."  
  
"The look of shock lasted for a while longer and soon, a smile broke out of the dusty and perspiration-drenched face.  
  
"Thank you, Sir."  
  
"No problem."  
  
Soon, a low and monotonous hum of a vehicle engine was heard. Fairfield and Fredrick sprang up with difficulty due to the injured legs. Fairfield took out a pair of binoculars and saw something he never imagined. The blue streaks on the vehicle seemed to look familiar...It's an American Humvee!  
  
Fairfield and Fredrick waved in happiness of the oncoming vehicle. The Humvee came to a halt; a blond-haired Ranger who was behind the wheel stuck his head out of the window and was to see Fairfield and Fredrick. He turned towards his companions and attempted to catch their attention.  
  
"Hey! Look who's here!"  
  
Everyone turned their attention to Fairfield and Fredrick, shocked till their skin colors went as white as sheet, speechless and in a way, overwhelmed. The Ranger/ Driver double who wore polarized glasses gazed at the two confused men in an uncomfortable way and started to shed the light of realization upon the two confused men, "You see, we were sent here to get recon because the superiors thought you were all dead, Sir. But we found you two after discovering the dead bodies of your comrades..."The Ranger could not be able to find more words to say because of Fairfield and Fredrick's expatriated looks.  
  
Fairfield looked at the Ranger in a weird manner, and the Ranger seemed to fiddle with his fingers in nervousness when he had an eye to eye contact with who he thought was a major, and he himself, being a mere 3rd sergeant.  
  
"Do you have any medics in your Humvee?" asked Fairfield and the 3rd Sergeant broke out in cold sweat.  
  
"Oh, yes we do...Please hold on...Leon! Jerome!"  
  
Two medics sleeping next to each other of the lightly-armored Humvee sprung up from their naps. He saw Fredrick's' bleeding thigh and soon started to attend to it after taking their medic kits and exiting the vehicle. The other medic started to bandage Fairfield's shin after injecting some morphine into his leg.  
  
Finally, relieved from the pain, Fairfield asked the 3rd sergeant a little favor, "Won't mind my entering into your Humvee, would you?"  
  
"No, Sir..." stammered the Ranger who regretted his behavior earlier. And so entered the two Pathfinders into the Humvee.  
  
"Let's get out of here, I have had enough. Oh, and it seems that we are going to give our Granger a little surprise." muttered Fairfield as he slowly and silently saluted towards the directions of the lifeless bodies of his late comrades within the spoils of the battle from the machine-gun post as the Humvee of E Squad brought them out of the ripped-apart battle field slowly and in silence towards the evening sun which was slowly sinking towards the horizon... 


	3. Marooned Skies

Wars Of The Future & Beyond

Started November 2, 2004

Disclaimer: Some of the original characters on the story belong to Electronic Arts no intentional infringements of copyright are intended through their use. Some of the events and characters in the game are edited for dramatic purposes. Any resemblance to any character in the story, living or dead is purely coincidental.

The author speaks:

Sorry for the belated publication of this chapter, lots of files were mixed up in the process of typing the chapters, until I finished toiling to set things right. Most chapters have to be re-planned though, but I will hasten to finish this up, since I have another novel to write.

All I can say is, expect darker twists in the later chapters, I suppose, it might be a probability that everything is mixed up while I was thinking of the twists, what can I say, though.

* * *

Chapter 3 – Part I: Marooned Skies

"This is Hero One, over."

"Recon Charlie-Two here, we've got some Scorpions for you to blow over here, coordinates 3, 7, over."

Warrant Officer Lewis looked over his NVGs and saw the skyline of Somalia which had the green glow which represented the disturbed sand, giving the rebel-ridden city a ghastly appearance, his co-pilot was looking back, making sure the Rangers at the cargo hold were safe.

"Negative, we're full with customers here, get those Little Birds to get them, we got our job to do, over."

"Roger that, Hero One, over and out."

The Ranger captain signaled to Lewis that they will soon be reaching their target destination, in hopes that it would not be the tragic reoccurrence of Operation Gothic Serpent.

"Poor Mike Durant..." mumbled Stan, the copilot over the monotonous lashing of the rotor blades against the cold and napalm-filled night air.

Stan heard his rally beacon beep and yelled to the action-ready Rangers, who were loading their arms and fastening their Kevlar armor. "Ladder ropes down!" cried Lewis and as though by magic (It was actually Stan, who activated it), some did fall upon a derelict-looking building, which seemed sturdy enough to survive a few more tank and artillery shells.

The Rangers rappelled upon the building like they did in their drills a few weeks before. But something whizzed past the windscreen of the Chinook, lashing a burnt trail of smoke. "Stan! Get ready to move out of there ASAP! We've strayed into a "beehive" of RPG Troopers!" The Rangers hastened their rappel down the Chinook, hoping that their pilots would not get hit by an RPG round.

The Rangers who safely reached the building tugged the rope, so Lewis started to roll out of the place before he would be hit by another well-placed RPG round.

The Chinook ascended into the sky, tearing particles of dust everywhere in a bid to prevent the RPG gunners to have the clarity to down it. Stan heard RPD (An obsolete machinegun) rounds ricocheting off the steel-plated hull, worried that they might find their spot at the fuel tanks.

Lewis gritted his teeth as he tried to raise the altitude of the bird amongst the rattle of AKMS bullets against the dent body of the Chinook.

"This is Hero One, we're pinned badly! Requesting ground support for successful takeoff over."

"This is Ghost Charlie Five, our snipers are already taking the racketeers down, hold your positions till we give the signal, over."

"Reece Jay here, we've deployed and try evading missiles as long as possible, we'll provide cover fire when Ghost Charlie Five gives the green light, over."

"This is Hero One, affirmative, over."

Stan started to operate his gattling canon at the buildings where rockets were coming from. Lewis fired the spare Hellfire missiles that were meant for the comaches, ripping whole buildings apart and sending the ill-fated RPG troopers sky-bound before meeting their deaths upon ground impact.

This time, there was another rocket attempt on the helicopter, but was unusually louder than its counterparts which missed the hull... Bright and dazzling sparks flew in all directions from the back and the whole halo was soon filled with petroleum smoke. Lewis felt a terrible surge of immense pain sear up this right shin, only for Stan to find out that the cockpit had sent out heated sparks from the circuit boards. He did a quick check on the helicopter damage, which had too little time to spare for... Both the tail boom and fuel tanks were hit, the Chinook started going in dizzying whirls towards the ground.

Seeing that holding the Chinook up would result in guaranteed death, Lewis nodded towards Stan, who grabbed the receiver on the Chinook for the last time.

"This is Hero One, we're going down! I repeat! We're going down!"

Stan and Lewis grabbed their MP-23s before ejecting out of the downed bird. Soon, they detached themselves from the booster seats before releasing their parachutes. Lewis now realized the wonders of the newly-introduced booster ejection seats... They could do nothing but float in mid-air as they watch the Chinook, which they had been riding with for months, make its impact on the ground and blow up into smithereens. They breathed no word as faint and ghostly reports of guns were heard in the distance.

They managed to redirect their parachutes to the building where they had dropped the Rangers off earlier. The captain passed them a first-aid kit as he muttered under his breath that the radio is with one of his sergeants.

Shadowy faces of the desert-camouflaged Rangers turned towards Stan and Lewis as they made their way towards a cackling communications radio, upon seeing the battle-worn pilots, the sergeant passed the radio and two MREs to them as he made his exit. Lewis could not stop smiling for it was awkward to eat when your comrades beside you were desperately firing CAR21/X-115s and M18A07s to rid the vicinity of angered Somalis who were intent to kill them all.

"This is Alpha Base, we've lost radar contact with Hero One, are the pilots in your visuals, over."

Munching over some dried apricots, Stan clicked the receiver of the radio.

"This "was" Hero One, we've made contact with Reece Jay, and we're fine over."

Lewis slumped against the wall as he places some morphine over his leg, rendered injured from the missile attacks. Pain left him as though they had been overwhelmed by the morphine.

"This is Alpha base, good to hear that. Request SAR team for you? Over."

"This "is" Reece Jay, not exactly, since we've been found, we don't need more pilots to join us in this plight..."

"This is Super Six-Ten, Armor Zero-Five is making their way here, requesting all infantry units in the vicinity to pave a way for the armored unit."

There was a brief moment of spine-tickling silence, and soon, the radio started to have more different static voices online.

"Ghost Charlie Five here, we're moving to co-ordinates 4-2 to pick the stinger sites off, over and out."

"Ghost Zannel Ten here, we are sniping the rebels at 4-4, do not pick off the wrong people, out."

"Reece Hastings here, we've spotted enemy infantry compounds at 3-1, requesting artillery support at our location ASAP"

As Stan was downing a bottle of hot sauce, artillery shells screamed over the building, and exploded at what seemed to be a GLA barracks. Stan could not stop himself from choking over the spicy drink, which gagged Lewis and the Sergeant with short-lived bursts of laughter.

"This is Super Six Eleven, we got a Black Hawk down in the city, I repeat, we've got a Black Hawk down in the city, Super Six Ten is down, and signs of life are yet to be determined, requesting immediate ground SAR support at 3-7.

Now that was something not to be laughed at. Seeing that his platoon was at 3-5, the captain, John Irving rushed into the room and grabbed the receiver.

"This is Reece Jay reporting, we're conducting a SAR operation now, please repeat the co-ordinates of the crash, over."

As he was making the transmission, the Rangers and Missile Defenders were already ungarrisoning the building, only a few wounded Rangers and a Field Medic were to be left behind under the protection of a machinegun platoon which had recently joined them from the skeletal remains of a few engaged Humvees before the heat of the battle.

Stan knew he was about to go, since he was the uninjured one amongst the two pilots of Hero One, who might be useful in disengaging some helicopter equipment useful for the battle in the long run.

Lewis sat there with a sodden face, unhappy about being a casualty, but later felt better after given the task of guarding the casualties himself, who have more severe injuries than he did. And it was how he met his new M-78 sub machinegun.

The SAR team now consists of John, Stan, some Rangers, a handful of missile defenders, not forgetting a Field Medic. The team crouched behind the rubble of what seemed to be a mall. John scanned the surroundings with his binoculars behind the rusted hides of what remained of a flatbed truck. The rest of the team crouched with rifles, ready to inject bullets into any unfortunate body that its owner would go in their path. It was difficult to concentrate finding the crash site while gunfire was erupting everywhere, accompanied with the constant and repetitive droning engines of helicopter engines here and there. It did take quite some skill to see through streams of jet-black smoke... A stream of smoke?

John signaled to the team that the site was found at 6'o clock. Before everyone moved on, they each said a little prayer that neither the occupants of the downed UH-65S Black Hawk, nor anyone in the team, would be sent back home in body bags. Stan thought he just saw the Field Medic clutch a U.S. Army bible before setting off into the SAR operation...

Everyone started to maneuver towards the crashed remnants of Super Six Ten, before the GLA does...


End file.
